Corrupted (The Untold Beth Childs story)
by Slayer33
Summary: In orphan Black we see the last few minutes of Beth Child's life but what happened before that? Corrupted goes back five years to Beth's first days as a Detective and an undercover mission that leads to her first real romance and the realisation that she is a clone.


I picked up my cardboard coffee cup and grabbed a napkin, wiping the spot on my desk where the condensation had run down and pooled at the bottom then I placed it back in the exact same spot and folded the napkin neatly before dropping it in the bin. On the computer in front of me was the profile of one Donatello Ventre. An ex con, convicted for trafficking, amongst other things. Criminalistics had just matched his finger print to one found at a crime scene of a girl who had been raped yesterday. I scanned through the profile for an address then picked up the phone. I was in the office today while my two colleagues worked the field. They were currently tracking down the victim's ex boyfriend. He had been arrested for assault in the past and was as good a suspect as any.

I was maybe new to the whole detective thing but I spent two years as a crime scene investigator prior to this so I knew how these things worked. I punched in Carter's number then waited for him to pick up.

"Child's? What you got for us?" He barked in to the phone in his usual professional manner.

"The lab got back with the results of that finger print. It's a match to a Donatello Ventre. Arrested and convicted for trafficking in 2013. He was released on parole two weeks ago. Last known address is 442 State Street, Brooklyn."

"Any registered firearms?"

I scroll down on the profile and browse the registered firearms.

"A service pistol. It's a Beretta M9," I read out loud, "and a 50 calibre M2 machine gun. I'll call for some back up."

"Ex service-man. How old is this guy?" Carter queries.

I scan the page again.

"62," I inform him, "He owns a gym not far from his last known address."

"Thanks Child's. We'll take it from here," he replies, calmly.

I hang up and pick the phone up again, dialling the Brooklyn Police department.

"This is Detective Childs with the NYPD. I need immediate back up at 442 State Street. Suspect may be armed."

"Two seconds," the guy on the other end of the line responds and I hear him turn away to talk in to his radio. He requests back up and an inaudible voice responds, "Back up on route," The cop informs me.

"Thank you," I reply politely before ending the call.

I reach in to my drawer and take out my bottle of hand sanitizer. I rub some in to my hands and return it to is designated area of my drawer just as my boss enters the office behind me.

"Donatello Ventre?" I can tell she is frowning, trying to place the name.

"Out on parole for trafficking," I explain, looking round at her

"Ah yes. I dealt with him when they brought him in. Tried to say CSI were too rough with him. Threatened to sue the department until he realised he couldn't exactly do that from a jail cell."

"I don't miss the lab," I chuckle.

"Yeah. One wrong move and the whole case collapses. Don't think I could deal with that responsibility. How was he eligible for parole?"

"DA made him a deal. Name his accomplice and the sentence would be reduced with chance to file for Parole in early 2015."

"That guy was nothing if not a good negotiator. Tried to negotiate his way out a prison sentence and out of DNA evidence by blaming his younger brother."

I look back at the screen, reading my way down.

"Arrested 2001 for armed robbery and assault."

"And rape before that," My boss explains before I can read that part.

"History repeating itself," I sigh.

"Some people never learn," My boss shakes her head, "What have we got on him?"

"Forensics matched his fingerprint to the one found on the condom wrapper at the scene."

"Third conviction. Guy will be lucky to get out before he's dead."

"It's what he deserves."

"Yeah. You inform Carter and Bell?"

I nod, "And Called Brooklyn PD for back up."

"He armed?"

"We don't know for sure but he has two guns registered. One ex service and one machine gun."

"Good call," she agrees.

The phone rings, interrupting us before I can reply. I pick it up.

"Detective Childs," I announce in to the mouthpiece.

"Beth it's Art we've got a 419, DB at 442 State Street. ID suggests it's Ventre. Requesting CSI and Coroner at scene."

"I'm on it," I reply before putting down the phone.

"CSI and Coroner needed at 422 State Street, Brooklyn." I recite to my boss.

"Donatello?" She checks.

"Appears so," I nod.

"Let's go we can call on route."

"You want me at the scene?"

"I think it's time you got some field work in. Unless you'd rather stay in the office?" She raises her eyebrows, questioningly.

"Not a chance," I shake my head with a small laugh.

I call the lab and request the crime scene investigators and coroner at the scene.

"Ready Childs?" My boss asks as she turns the siren on her Jeep on.

"Ready Morgan," I reply.

She ignites the engine and pulls out of her parking space with one hand over the back of her chair as she looks out the rear window. Within seconds we are speeding amongst traffic on route to the crime scene. We are caught up by the coroner and CSI's as they respond to my call but lose them as we dodge in and out of traffic. We make it to the scene in less than five minutes.

The area is already cordoned off and armed police are climbing back in to their vehicles, having searched the house.

"Talk to me Carter," Morgan demands as she climbs out her car. I follow them as they duck under the tape and head in to the house.

"Male DB. Multiple stab wounds and gunshot to the head. Looks like he was tortured then killed."

She steps aside and I have a clear view of the body. The man is old enough to be Donatello but something is out of place. I frown and kneel down. I may be a detective now but I still think like a CSI. I glance over the body, trying to pin point what isn't right. It takes a few minutes but then I realise with a jolt.

"This isn't Ventre," I tell my colleagues.

"What?" Art frowns.

"This guy has a large mole on the centre of his neck, by the Adam's apple. Even with the blood spatter you can see it. Donatello doesn't."

"Where was the ID?" Morgan asks my co workers.

"Beside the body," Carter explains.

"Consistent with Donatello being the victim," She nods.

"This is also his last known address," Carter adds.

"So somebody wanted us to think this John Doe was our suspect," Morgan muses out loud.

"Why though?" I scowl, looking back at the body.

"CSI," I hear someone announce from outside and I turn to see my old colleagues enter the house.

"Male DB," Morgan explains, "ID indicates it's Donatello Ventre. Arrested multiple times for different offences. We think it may be a frame job though."

"Victim doesn't match the suspect's description," I tell them.

"All right Childs?" Smith smiles at me as he kneels down beside me and the body.

"Be better when I know who this John Doe is," I admit.

"I'll put a rush on fingerprints."

I nod in thanks and stand up.

The coroner and another old colleague, Pritchard, join Smith on the ground.

"Multiple stab wounds, gunshot to head," Morgan informs the coroner.

"Possible Cause of death," the coroner nods in agreement, "Rigor has set in so he's been dead more than 12 hours."

He moved aside to let Pritchard collect the dead man's prints. She did so and handed them to Smith.

"Stab wounds seem to be in a pattern," Smith noted, brows furrowed, "Can you open his shirt please?" he addresses the coroner.

The coroner obeys and unbuttons the shirt, moving it aside.

"Oh god!" Everyone looks over the body and groans at once. Carved in to the victim's chest is a well known gang tag "BB". The Brooklyn Boyz.

"The mighty Oaks," Smith sighs.

"How many deaths does that take their total to now?" Carter shakes his head in disbelief.

"Seven this year so far," Pritchard replies, "If it is the Mighty Oaks then there is no way anything we collect will tie them to the scene other than the tag."

"And we can't arrest the entire gang," I acknowledge.

"There has to be some way to stop these guys," Smith groans.

"Best we can do is our jobs," Morgan replies, "Process the scene. Maybe the killer got careless and left something behind."

She turns to the coroner.

"Alfred wait with these guys and take the body to the morgue when they are finished. Make sure you photograph the scars. Carter you go with Childs and check the neighbourhood for any witnesses. A crowd has already gathered out there. Someone must have seen something."

Carter nods and I get to my feet and follow him out.

"See ya Childs," Smith waves.

"Later," I respond with a smile, following Carter out on to the street. A decent number of people have emerged from their homes to peer, nosily, over the police tape.

"You okay?" He asks, concerned.

"The guy just looks eerily familiar," I voice my thoughts to him.

"He was beat up pretty badly. Hard to tell. We'll know when forensics match his prints.

"If he's in the system," I remind him. He gently brushes my arm affectionately and I smile.

"You worry too much Beth."

I nod.

"We should split up," Carter decides, looking round at the swarm of people, "See if any of these nosy buggers saw anything. I'll take this side." He walks off to our left and I head right.

"What happened?"

"Where's Don?"

"Was it the BBs?"

Everybody bombards me with questions at once. I raise my hands to silence them.

"Did anybody see anything?" I ask.

Nobody responds. For a few seconds it is silence then an old man pipes up.

"Nobody going to say anything," he tells me.

"Why is that?" I ask.

"Cause anybody names them then they wind up dead. We not suicidal ma'am."

I sigh.

"And by them you mean the Brooklyn Boyz?"

"I don't mean nothing," the guy replies before turning and walking away. The crowd starts to disperse as people follow him and others realise they don't want to be caught up in this.

Carter wanders over, looking at me hopefully.

I shake my head.

"Nobody wants to be involved if the BB's are," He tuts.

"We've never been able to tie them down with evidence before," I remind him, "And without eye witnesses we have nothing."

"There has to be another way to get these guys," Carter ponders.

"Anything?" Morgan and Bell walk up behind us and we turn to face them and shake our heads.

"Nobody wants to risk the BB's wrath," I explain.

"Can't say I blame them," Morgan replies.

"There's not going to be any evidence in there," I shrug, "These guys are obsessive. They clean up everything, don't use any registered weapons. There is no way to trace this to them."

"All we have is the tag," Morgan agrees.

"Any decent jury will argue that it could be a copy cat. We have nothing," Carter breathes out in defeat.

"What about that informant?" Art asks, looking at our boss.

"What informant?" Carter queries and I frown.

"We have a guy in with the BBs. He's low level but he might know something," Morgan muses.

"It's worth a shot," Art shrugs.

"Get Brooklyn PD to bring him in," Morgan agrees, "Even if he can't name the killer he might know something that can help."

Bell fishes out his phone and turns away to make the call.

"Child's you come back to the office with me. We need to ID this vic," she orders and I notice she is holding the victim's prints.

I follow her back to the car.

"I feel like the victim is familiar," I tell her, "There's something about him."

"Every body looks familiar to me," She replies as we drive along the roads back to the Bureau.

When we arrive back she heads directly for the lab with the prints and I make my way back to the office. A guy is stood by the reception desk in a muddy tank top and ripped jeans but it is not his clothes or his messy brown hair or even the scar on his left eyebrow that makes him stand out but his eyes. They are a startling blue and the angle he is standing at ensures the light hits off them making them shimmer like water.

"Childs this is Caleb Jackson," Heather at the reception explains.

"You work for Morgan?" the guy asks, eyeing me up in a way that makes me feel like a piece of meat in a zoo.

"Yes how can I help?" I ask pointedly, distracting his wandering eyes. They snap back up to my eye level.

"I'm the informant," He replies, "You just had me dragged out in the middle of a shift. You better pay me back for that. I can't afford to lose jack shit."

"I'm sure the apartment will reimburse you," I reply professionally.

"Fucking better," he murmurs under his breath, "Well?" He adds, raising his eyebrows at me.

"What?" I ask.

"You going to explain why I'm here or are we just going to stand in the lobby like twats?" He bites.

"Heather is interview room one free?" I ask, taking charge.

Heather glances at her computer.

"All empty," she nods.

"Record this?" I check and she nods, turning the interview room camera on.

"This way," I lead the half dressed delinquent to the interview room.

He traipses behind me and when I turn to hold the door open for him I catch his glance quickly shift from my backside to the room before us.

"Take a seat," I offer as I pull my own one out and park myself on it.

"What's this about?" The boy demands, sitting down and crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze is steely but I've dealt with worse and I stare back at him, a cold look on my face.

He chuckles.

"Let me guess. You're bad cop?" He asks with a smirk.

"I'm not good or bad," I reply, harshly, "I'm just doing my job."

"It's usually Art that deals with me. Where is he?"

"He's at a murder scene. A man was taken down by the Brooklyn Boyz. You roll with the them. What do you know?"

"What's it worth?" He replies, cockily, arching his eyebrow at me.

"Your usual payment isn't enough?" I scoff.

"What about a kiss?" He grins, leaning in, his elbows pressed on the glass table. I overcome an urge to move him off the glass so he doesn't leave marks, biting my lip to hold back my compulsive obsession.

"That sound good to you?" he chuckles, mistaking my lip bite for arousal.

"Hardly," I shake my head, "You're not my type Mr Jackson so-"

"Caleb," he interrupts.

"Caleb," I proceed, "You are a paid informant for the CBI. You will be rewarded nicely if you tell me what you know."

He shrugs.

"Don't know anything."

"Now see I don't think that's true. Your a nosey guy," I retort, "Your first instinct when I approached you was to eye me up and down, taking me in."

"Wasn't taking you in babe. I was checking you out. Not used to hot cops."

"Detective," I correct him.

He licks his lips and smirks before leaning back on his chair. I resist the urge to clean the elbow marks on the table but it takes a huge amount of effort.

"I bet you like discipline don't you?" He asks, a smug look on his pale face, "You like being spanked?"

"Can't say I've tried it," I reply haughtily.

"I'm here when you want to," he chuckles, pleased with himself.

"Like I said. You aren't my type," I respond, calmly.

"What is your type? Art?"

I can't hold back my laugh.

"I guess not," he acknowledges.

"Listen either you have information or you don't but if you do then you'd better share it with us."

"Whys that?"

"Because if you don't it will be more than easy to let the cat out the bag and what will happen to you when the Brooklyn Boyz learn they have a leak in their squad?"

His face turns deadly cold. He is clearly not used to threats. Finally he raises his hands in defeat.

"Fine. I heard through some folks that there was a hit put out on some Cop guy."

"Are you telling me our murder victim is a cop?"

"Yeah some old guy," he explains.

I wrack my brain, trying to think of an official in the Departmet with a mole on their neck. It takes a few minutes but when it dawns on me I freeze.

"Upton," I gasp, an image of the Night Shift boss, coming to mind. I don't bother finishing the interview but race from the room. Morgan is entering the lobby as I reach it.

"Morgan it's-"

"Upton," she finishes with a heavy voice.

I nod,sadly.

"Fingerprints confirmed it," she held up the paper confirmation of the prints.

"What do we do?" I ask, completely lost. Upton was a lovely man. He was set to retire in two weeks. He was so close to freedom. So close. It breaks my heart to think of the conversations we had about all the holidays he was going to go on with his daughter and her children.

"We're passing all other cases to the night shift," She replied, "They can't deal with Upton. The Brooklyn Boyz are now our pirority."

"Erm hello? Can I go now?"

I jumped at the extra voice and turned to facer the culprit. Mr Jackson has emerged from the interview room behind me and now addresses my boss and I.

"He knows they put out a hit," I tell Morgan as she looks at me.

"Not yet," she decides, escorting him back to the interview room. She stops at the door after he walks back in and looks at me.

"You coming?" She asks.

I blush, not aware she wanted me to and quickly totter in to the room.

"Who was it?" Morgan demands the second the door closes.

"Get your employee here to undo her shirt and I'll tell you," he grins, wickedly.

"Or I could put your perverted ass behind bars for sexual harassment of an officer?" She suggests with a casual shrug.

His smile drops and he groans, lifting a hand through his tousled hair.

"I don't know," he admits.

"Who was it?!" Morgan yells, not accepting his response.

"I told you I don't know!" He yells back, "I'm just low level. I recruit people and train the new guys. They don't tell me jack shit about that stuff."

"You've been with them for two years now," Morgan snaps, "What's it going to take for you to get up there with the big guys?"

"I don't know okay? I just do what I'm told. Train the girls to move the drugs and teach the guys how to shoot a gun. That's it."

Morgan stops abruptly and leans back against the wall. Mr Jackson and I look at her as she appears lost in thought.

"Fine you can go," she tells him. He stands and holds his hand out.

"I'll send your money with Brooklyn PD," she snaps, exasperated.

He shrugs, not fussed so long as he gets paid.

"See ya sexy," He winks at me as he opens the door and struts out of sight.

"What now?" I ask Morgan.

"I might have an idea," she scowls, "I'm going to get Carter and Bell. Stay here."

I nod at my demands and watch her leave. She returns fifteen minutes later with Carter and Bell.

"What's this about?" Bell asks, leaning against the table. I stop myself from swatting his hands off the table. If this was my house he'd never be invited back. It astounded me how casually messy people could be without even noticing their surroundings. This was a professional place. We interviewed witnesses and criminals in here. It should be kept clean.

"The informant is a low level member of the BBs," she tells us, "He trains the new guys. Teaches them how to use guns amongst other things. He's also related to the head of the gang."

"If he's related to the head then how come he didn't know anything?" I frown.

"He's not blood related. His step dad is Victor Morelli. He runs the BBs and the abandoned hotel they work from. They don't have the best relationship so Morelli probably keeps him low level out of spite."

I nod in understanding and so do Carter and Bell.

"Forensics are still examining the evidence but we all know they won't find anything and without anything to tie any of them to the scene we have nothing for a warrant. We don't know what we are dealing with here. The hit could have been performed by one member or multiple. What we do know is a beloved colleague is dead. He was brutally murdered and made to look like he was someone else."

"Donatello has ties to the BBs, He worked with Morelli back in the seventies," Carter informs us all.

"So chances are he raped our other victim then went to Morelli for help in getting out," Art deduces. Never one to miss a beat, Art Bell.

"Body's been there at least twelve hours. Plenty for him to fly the coop," I point out.

The others nod.

"Donatello is probably far away on some exotic island now," Morgan sighs, "But he would have to have got out quick. He had to know that Forensics would be at the scene within minutes and would find a way to tie him to it."

"Meaning he didn't hang around long enough to shoot Upton," Carter muses.

"Rules him out as a suspect," I agree.

"So what now?" Bell asks Morgan.

"I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't Upton but he deserves justice. We won't find that by sitting here, praying someone slipped up and left something behind. We go in."

"Undercover?" I double check.

"Carter," Morgan nods, "You game?"

"For Upton," Carter nods.

"Good. Then here is the plan. We bring Jackson back in. He recruits people for the BBs. We have him act like Carter is a new recruit. We will need ID's and back stories. Everything to get Carter in and keep him safe once he is."

"We need Caleb to agree too," Art points out.

"Childs and I will go and speak to him," Morgan agrees.

I hold back a sigh. Caleb Jackssin is the last person I want to deal with again.


End file.
